


Home Game

by yukiyuu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Asasugadai if you squint like really really hard, Haikyuu - Freeform, Hinata is the puck boy, Hinata stop saying figure skating isnt a sport, I feel like I spelled their names wrong, I hope this isnt bad, Ice hockey player Bokuto koutarou, Kageyama will triple flip kick you, Kenma wants to spend his breaks alone with his DS thank you, Kuroo is on the team but he mostly just flirts with Kenma, Lev is trying to be a figure skater but he keeps crashing into Yaku, Theyre all in Tokyo because its simpler that way and i said so, You heard me, someone made this idea on a tiktok and i became invested
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:40:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28976784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukiyuu/pseuds/yukiyuu
Summary: Koutarou loves familiarity, and Akaashi Keiji is the farthest thing from it.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Haiba Lev/Yaku Morisuke, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Kudos: 11





	Home Game

**Author's Note:**

> This was brought to my attention by @sidkozume on tiktok and I am just really loving it. Thank you for making this my new brainrot.
> 
> Also, welcome to my first ever fanfic! I hope whoever stumbles upon this enjoys it. Maybe I'll grow as a writer throughout the process, or maybe the sheer amount of hockey/figure skating research I have to do will make me a little smarter.
> 
> I plan to continue this, so maybe I will. Maybe I won't. I probably will.

Koutarou loved familiarity. He loved how he knew each inch of the rink as if it were the back of his hand, how he knew exactly how the ice was going to feel under the blades of his skates. He loved that seat in the stands right next to the heater where he could place his jacket next to so it was nice and warm before he went back out into the blistering cold weather of Tokyo. 

The rink had been there even before he was born. Koutarou took his first few stumbles on the ice in that rink, spent his first hockey game there, and had practiced there for years and years, throughout middle and, until now, high school. He knew every nook and cranny of the place, every faucet that went from freezing cold to blistering hot in a matter of milliseconds (the third, sixth, and seventh in the boy’s bathroom and the fourth on in the girl’s), and most importantly the ice. The ice he would come back to every day to glide onto even on days where he didn’t have to practice. This was the place he loved, cherished, and had always known. The rink was, one would say, familiar. 

That familiarity was gone.

With the loss of familiarity came a new rink after the old one shut down to make way for yet another supermarket. This new rink, despite being quite literally newer and even closer to home with arcade games and mozzarella sticks to die for, was something Koutarou despised. Gone were the Sundays spent skating about with Kuroo, fantasizing about future careers, future goals, and families. Gone were the late nights messing around in the rink until the owner kicked them out and gave them some money to get pork buns on the walk home. Kourtarou hated it, hated it all. The one thing he just couldn’t bring himself to hate was the ice.

It was wonderfully smooth to skate on (was he faster now?) and found it relatively easier to control the puck and savor the satisfyingly smooth glide it made from his puck to the net. Even his teammates agreed that practice-wise, this rink was far better than the last. Koutarou was forced to believe but still held a grudge against this new, unfamiliar rink. He was glad that his best friend, Tetsurou Kuroo, thought the same.

Right? Right? Right?

“Right, Kou?” Kuroo snapped him out of his deflated mood and brought him back to reality. It was Sunday, the only day the two had set aside to relax and stop thinking about school (until the next day of course). Koutarou looked back at his friend, nodding his head vigorously before realizing he had no idea what the other was talking about. Kuroo, already used to his momentary space-outs, repeated his last statement as he motioned over to what looked like a kid playing on his Nintendo. He had bleached blonde hair and dark roots (which were painfully greasy, even to his standards) along with a rather unamused look on his face as he concentrated on the game in front of him. “Don’t you think he’s kind of cute? A little messy yeah, but who doesn’t love someone who isn’t afraid to go out like that? Maybe he’s from out of town! Or maybe he’s in town and he’d be into other guys! I should talk to him, right? Right?

Koutarou blinked a few times and turned to look back at Kuroo before he was caught staring. “I don’t think two messies make a neat,” he replied, glancing back at pudding head (yeah, that seemed about right) before turning again to his friend. “If you really want to, then go for it. This could be your once in a lifetime to have someone other than me interested in you. We’re about to leave anyway; what’s the harm? If he makes fun of you we’ll just leave.” Kuroo responded to Koutarou’s input with a huff, a pout on his lips but a bright grin seeping through those hazel eyes of his. Koutarou watched as he slid away from his seat and towards the blonde. His approach was short-lived, unfortunately, as someone calling out the name of Kenma seemed to catch the target’s attention. Pudding head (Kenma?) put his game down with a sigh and got up to turn to whatever voice was calling him.

The voice, Koutarou learned, belonged to another unfamiliar person. He wore a plain grey shirt and what seemed to be leggings. Taking a look back at Kenma revealed that the smaller was also wearing a similar outfit with a pair of worn skates resting gently against his bag. He saw Kuroo walk slowly back to their seat, sighing as he put his skates away. Koutarou did the same, tying up his sneakers as he listened in on the conversation. 

“You came here an hour early and you didn’t shower yet?” The new one said. He had dark hair, Bokuto noted. Black hair and a gaze that, if he wanted to, could probably kill someone. “You know how to coach gets during competitions Kenma. He even gave you those smaller travel-sized bottles so you could wash your hair in the shower room instead of just wetting it.”

Pudding head huffed as he laced up his skates, scooting over slightly so the taller could do the same. “I was on the final boss, Akaashi. It took me thirty-four times to beat it, but I did. Can you at least acknowledge that?” Kenma sounded tired, but there was a hint of excitement in his eyes that Koutarou could see from afar as he stood up in order to get to the rink. “I’ll practice late with you to make up for it.”

“You’re tired, don’t worry. We’ll leave at our normal time. You know you can call me Keiji too, by the way. You’ve known me long enough.” The other male (Bokuto assumed that was Akaashi, Akaashi Keiji?) followed the blondie onto the ice and before he could blink an eye they were spinning faster than the Earth itself and jumping higher than he ever imagined someone could. Watching Akaashi especially made his eyes widen in awe. He never knew someone could move like that.

He felt a light nudge on his shoulders he looked up to see Kuroo standing up and ready to go. “I’ll try another day,” he said as he offered the other a hand so he could stand up. Koutarou took it and followed Kuroo to the exit, looking back at the two distant figures on the rink, graceful and elegant in each step they took.

Maybe Koutarou would start to like this unfamiliar.


End file.
